


Doubt

by Chess_Blackfyre



Series: The Secura Family [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Discussions of Slave Army, Gen, How to Raise a Kid in a Warzone, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chess_Blackfyre/pseuds/Chess_Blackfyre
Summary: As Jedi Knight, Aayla Secura must be resolute and sure if she wished to succeed. As a general, even more so.  Yet, in the quiet moments, Aayla finds herself wrestling with her own personal doubts.
Relationships: Aayla Secura & Quinlan Vos, CC-5052 | Bly & Aayla Secura, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura, Maris Brood & Aayla Secura, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: The Secura Family [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718575
Comments: 16
Kudos: 136
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	1. Quinlan

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally in "Midnight Snacks' but the pacing didn't work

“You practically eat better here then we do at the Temple.”

“Now I know you’re exaggerating,” the Twi’lek sighed and master and (former) apprentice lapsed into silence as he finished up the charcuterie plate. Whoever was currently locked in a broom closet at least would be getting a treat for their troubles.

“Do think this was really a wise decision?”

“The charcuterie?”

“What--no, the Jedi. The fact that the Order and the Senate would have us abandon the roles of peacekeepers and diplomats to be generals.”

Quinlan hummed, and while there was no outward change, she could feel his mind turning ing contemplation through their bond. 

“One of the only downsides to generations of peace,” he finally spoke, closing the refrigerator door. “No one else in the Republic is even vaguely experienced with fighting a war on this kind of scale.” By that logic, neither were the Separatists, yet they seemed to have figured it out.

“The Jedi are peacekeepers, not soldiers. You taught me that.”

A grim nod from a usually exuberant man. “Perhaps that’s why Sifo Dyas did what he did, he foresaw the war, knew we wouldn’t be prepared and took the steps to find us people who would be.”

“You mean  _ buying  _ us people who would be,” Aayla reminded. The revelation of Kamino had taken the entire Order by surprise, to say the least. The thought of millions of children who were bred to fight, to be treated as little more than walking talking military hardware and die for the cause. Aayla had always tried to be honest with herself, and the honest truth was that the Republic was fighting a war with a slave army, with a Jedi leading the way.

A nudge at her shoulder. Quinlan held up a few slices of an apple. She took it.

“Whelp,” he popped the p, really trying to shake away the dower atmosphere. “Time to go apologize to the kid, I guess.”

A small smirk. “Best of luck to you. And maybe let the kid get a ‘lucky shot’ in, if only to make him feel better.”


	2. Verd'Ika

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months into her apprenticeship, Aayla starts to worry about what it is Maris is really learning from her.
> 
> “Aayla, you’re teaching the kid how to stay alive out there. That’s what’s important.”
> 
> “But what kind of life? One where she will think of violence as a natural response, rather than as a last resort? One where she is as unsuited for peace as I was for war?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of "Brooding" but I couldn't make it fit into the overall flow of the story.
> 
> Captain Brine belongs to thatfunkyopossum who has some WONDERFUL clone content and art. Seriously go check them out!

It all starts after a battle. One of many.

Minimal casualties, and Aayla supposes she should be grateful for that. Her heart aches at every life lost, at every name now added to the daily remembrance. But for that pain to go away--to no longer feel that loss would be worse. The knight breathes, and returns to the present moment. 

“--fourty-one.”

Looking over, she spots Maris speaking to Captain Brine. Both sets of white and gold armor are scuffed and smeared, a particular dark streak of something drying over the tusks of Maris’ rancor. Aayla hopes it’s just oil.

A quiet fondness radiates in the Force around the captain. It’s a common reaction to the young padawan, even months later. “That’s great,  _ verd’ika, _ ” he raises his hand, and she reaches up to meet it in a high-five.  


_ Verd’ika.  _ Little soldier. Aayla isn’t sure how she felt about that.

* * *

Aayla had her doubts from the start. As Maris’ master, it was her responsibility to teach, protect, and to provide for the young padawan under her care. She had only been knighted a few years ago herself, was she truly ready for this kind of responsibility? Looking back on the first year with Quinlan, she could see more clearly some of the times when her own master had struggled to adapt to his new role as a teacher, just as she had struggled to find her footing as his student. And that was  _ before  _ there had been a galactic civil war. 

How could she help Maris understand a Jedi’s role in the galaxy, when even Aayla was beginning to question what that even was anymore?

She had told the Lurmen that the Jedi wanted to end the war. But...perhaps she had been trying to convince herself as well.

Still, she helped guide Maris through Jedi philosophy. Allowing the girl the space to come to her own understanding of their teachings, rather than mindlessly recycling thousands of years of doctrine. Quinlan had not dragged her down a well-worn path, but allowed her the space to explore and to interpret, only stepping in when she had strayed too far, or was perhaps lacking the proper context to understand. It had been frustrating at the time, but in the long run it allowed Aayla to grow as a student, to realize there were rarely easy answers. She would do the same for Maris, even if her young padawan grumbled at times.

Lightsaber training at least remained straightforward. Maris used an interesting variation on Jar’Kai, one that utilized two guard shotos instead of just one in combination with a standard lightsaber. The smaller blades gave her a greater range of motion, and the unorthodox hilt design made the blades uniquely suited to blocking strikes from lightsabers or blaster fire.

The girl blinked up at Bly when he brought it up. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

“Oh no, it’s just--I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Now it was Bly’s turn to look confused. “You mean, you didn’t build your sabers with that purpose in mind?”

“No, I just kind of…” she shrugged. “Look, it just kind of felt right, when I was building them.”

“So...will of the Force?”

A hapless shrug. “I guess?”

A long-suffering sigh. “You know, one of these days we need to have a long conversation about how exactly this ‘Force Stuff’ works.”

With that advantage in mind, Aayla instructed her in Ataru and Shien/Djem So. The later form required much physicality, but Maris was already training with the clones to increase her own physical capabilities. Adding strength training to the regimen would help her with the sheer physicality the form sometimes required. Her padawan took to all lightsaber training like an aiwha to water, and their position on the front lines meant there were always plenty of opportunities for her to put that training into practice.

Which returns her to the present moment. They were calling her  _ verd’ika _ . Little soldier. The more Aayla listened, the more she realized how common it was for the troopers to call Maris that. The Jedi felt...conflicted about that. Not at the nickname itself, or the bond it signified--it was good, the padawan finding connections and friendships out here amongst the men. The soldiers taught Maris as much as Aayla did, just about different things. Be it the proper weapon maintenance, how to swallow bad rations without tasting them, battlefield tactics, or even bits of Mando’a, based on the occasional ‘Oya!’ or muffled curse words Maris bites out that her master pretends not to hear, the zabrak had a few thousand willing teachers.

But Aayla wanted Maris to be a Jedi. Not a soldier. But what was she really teaching her? She brushed the idea aside, and went over to speak with Bly about coordinating recovery efforts for incoming wounded. 

* * *

As the days passed, Aayla found herself pondering that question more and more. What was she really teaching her padawan, beside the ways of war? The fact that the knight had to scramble to find answers that weren’t just philosophy was...concerning. 

Teaching had always been a communal effort among the Jedi. That way, padawan could gain wisdom from other members of the Order, rather than just be restricted to their own master’s teachings, and possible follies. While Quinlan was never one to make himself scarce--the Jedi Shadow once traveling three systems over to deliver a piece of intel that really could have just been a holo--and always ready to impart wisdom to his ‘grand padawan’. But the kind of lessons Quinlan was imparting--hotwiring speeders being the tip of the iceberg--weren’t exactly helping her concerns.

This war would not last forever, as much as it seemed to at times. There would be a different galaxy on the other side of it, one that would be in need of healers, of diplomats, of all the things the Jedi were  _ supposed  _ to be, rather than the role they served now. The Knight was ashamed to think that she wasn’t preparing Maris for that future.

So, she did what any good general should, and shared her concerns with her second in command. They were back up on the  _ Intrepid  _ now, sitting in Bly’s quarters as they filled out requisition forms. After trying and failing for an hour to find a good way to try and bring it up, she decided to just put her datapad down and jump right in.

“I worry sometimes, what Maris is learning from me. The kind of tools I’m giving her.”

Bly sets down his own padd and raises an eyebrow. “....is this about the thigh holster?”

“No,” she sighs, “Although I am still irritated that you managed to talk me into that.” Now Maris wanted more knives, specifically ones to holster in her boots. “I’m talking metaphorically. The kind of problem solving skills she’s learning--because most of them seem to revolve around combat and violence.”

The commander shrugged. “It’s a big galaxy, and there’s always probably going to be some  _ sheb  _ or other looking to make trouble.”

“Bly, I’m serious.”

“Never said you weren’t,” he held his hands up. “General, you’re doing your best to make sure that kid stays alive out there. That’s what’s important.”

“But what kind of life?” “One where she will think of violence as a natural response, rather than as a last resort? One where she is as unsuited for peace as I was for war?”

“Hey,” he leans over and places a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve managed pretty well, if you ask me.”

Aayla rubbed her eyes. It was late, and she was likely being unfair. “Bly--”

“Look, the commander might not be learning much by way of diplomacy, or what fork to use at a fancy dinner, but you know what she is picking up? How to think under pressure. How to deal with pain. How to look at a problem from all sorts of angles, and to think her way around it.” The clone commander continued, removing his hand and leaning back in his chair. “Now that you’ve identified a problem, what are ways to address it?”

Aayla hummed. “On Maridun, Galahad told me that knights can have ‘lightsaber-shaped blinders on’.”

“I remember. Poor Saint was  _ scandalized _ to hear the major back-talk you like that.”

“I resented her words at the time, but now I see she has a point.” She ran a hand over her face. “I suppose I’ll just have to work harder to try and keep Maris from developing the same bad habits.”

“I could...tell the troops to lay off. Not be so eager to show the kid the latest hardware, or how to improvise a bomb out of spare parts.”

Aayla opened her mouth. Then she closed it and thought a moment. “No, that’s a way for them to bond, for them to have something to talk about. Plus, it is beneficial to her to learn about how these things work, as much as I don’t like it. But perhaps…” she tapped her fingers on the desk. “Perhaps she could shadow with Engineering more frequently, learn the inner workings of the ship. I know I could definitely ask the Council for more mercy missions, if at all possible. Or at least the permission to send Maris along with another Master on them.”

“The 104th. I’ve heard good things about General Plo Koon, and Wolffe will jump at the chance to take the kid for a ride along, even if he’ll gripe about it.”

A small smile over her face. “That sounds like a plan, Commander.”

* * *

They still ran through katas, and Bly still talked her through strategy. But she brings Maris to talks with the native Feluscian villagers. To the surrender of Separatist leaders. Has her listen in on meetings with other Jedi, and sends her to run missions with the others whenever possible. (Yes, even Skywalker.)

There was also meditation, and Maris’ continued distance-learning courses from the Temple. Aayla found that she could stand to be more involved with homework.

“Why do I need to learn about the structure of Alderaanian noble houses?” Maris complained. “It’s useless busy work. Plus, what does it matter which  _ spoon  _ I use?”

“It’s to help impart an understanding of different cultures, and Alderaan is one of the most politically significant worlds in the Republic.”

  
She then pretends not to hear her padawan’s grumbles about ‘stupid human-centric biases’. And she  _ definitely _ doesn’t hear her biting out a few more curses in Mando’a.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> You know, one of my only gripes with the Clone Wars series as a whole was that the fact that it only ever brushes on the idea that the clones were essentially created as a slave army.


End file.
